The next day was filled with paperwork, the dullest kind, but for once, Tony, Danny and the rest of the boys were incredibly thankful. The fluorescent lights were a little too bright for the likings of their hangovers but at least their work didn't require brainpower that they simply did not have after the night they had had.
Word got out that the stripper had hung around for a while afterwards, and a couple of the guys even asked Tony what had happened. When he answered, truthfully, that they had just talked, their expressions were a mixture of disappointment and suspicion. This was Tony DiNozzo – he did not "just talk" to girls with faces like hers. Not to mention dance moves, common attire and, well, her physique was nothing short of phenomenal. Tony let these guys think what they may, but after a conversation with Ziva, he had decided that she was unusual, and she had captured his interest far too much to be the subject of a simple fantasy or dirty joke. She had brains, guts. She was sharp and cunning. She was strong. She was caring and her morals important to her. And he had learned this much from just one night with her.
All this to her and yet there was a part of him – a small part of him that he had tried to drown out – that simply wanted her to be just a fantasy. She was beautiful, sexy, and that look in her eyes last night, so raw and vicious, that had been something to see. But he could close his eyes and imagine her there all she wanted and still his hunger for her, this girl he barely knew, would not be satisfied. And he was frustrated with himself at that fact. And even if he would close his eyes, he would only see her deep, brown eyes with a sparkle in them that drove him crazy.
She was what she was, and that was hard to change. Her nights were spent showing herself off to anonymous men. They get a simple indulgence and she gets her cash and they part ways with no further interaction. That should be it, shouldn't it? Of all the girls out there, what was so special about her? Why, so inconveniently, could he not get her off his mind? It could be called infatuation but that would be stretching things a little thin.
He so wished that she had said yes to that coffee. He'd have sat with her as long as he could, listening to her talk. She was so...atypical. So different. A voice in his mind told him that it was not responsible to want to have lunch with a stripper. Really. She had...other customers. Other men to see. Other dances to dance. She belonged to no man and yet she did not belong to herself either.
He never had liked sharing.
...
The half hour he got for lunch on slow days like these always managed to turn into forty-five minutes or more. As long as he could get away with it, he would try to stretch things out. If he finished all his paperwork there was a chance he'd get stuck with a cold case, and that was a death sentence. Damn the citizens of Baltimore for abiding by the law.
Danny texted him at half past twelve. He had been out of the building most of the morning.
Lunch? There's a new deli down the street.
Tony replied immediately, his stomach growling in anticipation of a hopefully delicious sandwich.
Yep. Meet you out front in 5.
...
After the night they had had, a little fresh air and healthy foods could do them no harm. Then again, better for Tim to feel like this on a Friday than on his wedding day, which was tomorrow. It was no wonder he had stayed home.
"That was some party, man," Danny sad, munching with contentment on a tuna sandwich. "Thanks for letting him use your place. I know he'd freak out if we made a mess at his."
"I don't particularly like the mess either," Tony replied. His place was usually spotless, save for the occasional food left out and the magazines scattered across his coffee table. "But it didn't take me long to clean up. It's the cigar smoke smell that'll get me. I've been hangin' little pine trees all 'round the place since you all left."
"What about the girl? You know, the stripper?"
"What about her?"
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened. We talked. Her name's Ziva. She was born in Israel. Her parents died a while back and she looks after her little sister."
Danny looked almost disheartened. "Oh. Well, that's certainly deep for a guy she just met."
"She didn't seem clingy, though," Tony said, and there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice for her. "I get it. I mean, you gotta keep that stuff on the surface. That kinda stuff can't stop you from doing what you gotta do. Needing a job without having graduated high school is a better reason to become a stripper than most other reasons. She's paying for a little girl to stay fed and clothed and to go to school."
Danny frowned. Well, Tony thought he saw a frown. It was hard to tell, today. The sun was out – he could just be squinting.
"That's all a little sentimental, don't you think? It's not like you're gonna see her again."
Tony sighed. "Yeah. I guess."
The two friends walked in silence, chewing on the last scraps of sandwich. They rounded the last corner of the walk back to the station.
The station was near the other end of the street on the left hand side. On the right were little stores, studios and a small apartment building. Outside, one of its tenants was bringing out her garbage cans. Tony gave her a glance, given the chance to better observe his surroundings in the imminent silence, and then looked again.
It couldn't be, could it? Fate was never this kind to a person.
Oh, but it was.
Those wild curls were undeniable. Even in jeans that had clearly seen better days and a plain T-shirt, she was a picture. And it was her. He was sure of it.
Listen to your thoughts, DiNozzo. You've known this girl for approximately five minutes and she's really not that into you.
His inner monologue, his conscience, his own personal Jiminy Cricket, whatever, was right. But he just had to try again. Talk to her again.
He didn't tell Danny it was her. He doubted his partner would even notice if it was not pointed out. Besides, he didn't need more rumours about him and the stripper from McGee's bachelor party being spread about the department. Danny would never say things about him with the intention of hurting him – they were close friends. In fact, anything Danny said would be said with the idea in mind that he would be gaining 'popularity points' for Tony. Tony decided, though, to keep explanations short. Until, at least, he could offer a coherent explanation as to why this girl had been distracting him so for the past twelve hours.
"Listen, Dan, I've gotta go talk to this girl – tell the Boss I won't be long, okay?" he asked, hoping his friend would comply with little to no protest.
"Who is she? Do I know her?"
"Uhh," Tony stammered. "Can I just...I'll fill you in later."
"Got it," Danny said, taking the hint. He gave Tony a friendly slap on the back and made his way towards the station without another word.
Tony sauntered across the empty road with as much panache as he could bring forth.
"Well, well, well," he said with a smile. "If it isn't the girl with the deadly hips."
She looked up in surprise. He had clearly caught her off guard. This wasn't stripper-Ziva, this was big-sister-Ziva. And it was clear in that moment that she liked very much for those two people to stay as far away from each other as they could. It could be dangerous if they became too close and blurred.
She took a moment to compose herself and then the calm look returned to her face. "Tony," she said, recalling his name as easily as if they had known each other for years. "Did you stake me out or something?"
"Actually, I work just over there." He pointed at the station.
She sighed. "Of course." Her lips were pursed and she watched him more carefully than last night, almost as if he was a threat to be assessed.
He clasped his hands around his back and swung on his heels. "So...garbage day?" He made a mental note to slap himself later for that one. Something about her was really making him struggle.
"Yes," she answered. "The elevator is broken so I had to carry this downstairs. We live on the fourth floor."
He nodded and cleared his throat. "So..." he said again.
"Is there something I can do for you other than marvel at the coincidence of how very small this world is?" Her words were rich with sarcasm.
"How 'bout that coffee?" he finally got out.
She looked exasperated. "You know, just because I am a stripper, doesn't mean I'm yours when you want me. I do what I get paid to do."
She took a step away from him and slipped off the curb, landing on the side of the road with a thud, biting back curses and clutching her ankle.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine," she lied, trying and failing miserably to stand. "You can go. I will go back upstairs and ice this."
"You just said the elevator is broken. There's no way you're gonna be able to climb four flights of stairs when you can't even walk. Let me help."
She made a face that was almost pouty, and stared hard at the gravel in front of her.
"Ziva," he insisted. "Let me help you." He held out a hand to her, and reluctantly, she took it. He pulled her to her feet. Well, foot. She was kinda hopping. "Get on my back."
"What?"
"Just do it. I'm strong, okay?"
With a jump, because with only one foot there was no other way to do it, she threw herself onto his back and he winced at the sudden increase of weight to carry. He reached behind him and took secure hold of her legs, which were wrapped around his waist. Then, with slow but steady progress, he began ascending the staircase.
Even carrying an entire woman on his back did not stop him from noticing how run-down the whole building was. Little patches of mildew grew in the corners of yellowing walls. The skirting boards were dusty and hadn't been maintained. Cobwebs hung loosely across the ceiling and the stairs creaked beneath his feet.
Once he got to the fourth floor she directed him to apartment 4C. That was her place. He reached forward and opened the door, before walking in carefully setting her down beside the sofa. He looked around for the fridge, which sat small and squat in the corner of the kitchen. He rummaged through the freezer to find something to ice her leg with. Finding not much else, he handed her a packet of frozen fish sticks.
"Nice place," he said politely, gazing around, though it wasn't. The inside of the apartment wasn't a whole lot nicer than the hallways. There was no mildew in here, though, which was always a good sign. The walls were a little whiter and it was clear she kept the cobwebs away, but the whole place just felt tired.
She had said the previous night that the landlady had 'let them keep their apartment'. That had meant that their mother had lived here, too. How hard it must be to have to live in a place that just reminded them of what had once been. When his mother died, Tony and his father never really settled again. Moved from place to place. That was why he had hardly any friends originating from his childhood.
"You do not have to make small talk," she said, wincing as the cold package touched her sore ankle. It was not too bad, luckily. She would be able to dance tonight, probably.
"Okay. Look, I don't know what you think coffee is, but..."
"I do not see clients outside of work," she answered flatly, not looking at him.
"I'm not your client anymore."
"All the more reason for the discouragement of further involvement."
He wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Ziva, I...I just wanna talk to you. Have a conversation. Get to know you, you know? I think you're interesting."
That almost got her. It enticed her. No one ever stayed around long enough to actually be interested in her. But still, she refused. God, how she would love to sit and talk to a nice man who actually wanted to know her. After the way people treat her, nothing sounded more appealing. But things were complicated. Things would be easier if they were apart.
"Tony, I cannot expect you to understand this, but you have to hear it. I spend every day keeping it together for a little girl with no one else left in the world. And I spend every night taking my clothes off for disgusting men and praying that Tali doesn't wake up and find me gone. You cannot know what that is like. And no matter your offer, I do not have time for a Tony DiNozzo in my life."
He ran a hand over his face, taking in her words. He took a deep breath. Everything she had said only led him to believe that she deserved something better than she had. He decided he would help her, no matter the cost. Even if she never wanted to have that coffee with him.
Even so, now was not the time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "I got it," before waving and closing the door behind him as he left. Ziva could not stop the wave of guilt that came over her.
A/N: Don't always expect daily updates. I just happened to have time. It might be a few days before I update again - I have work and musical and I'm going away this weekend. It won't be more than a week. That I can promise. Please alert/favourite/review/whatever.